


I'll Make Cereal

by your_starless_eyes



Series: Lemon Boy [11]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (?), Dan Howell Has an Existential Crisis, Dan Howell/Phil Lester Comfort, Deep thinker dan Howell, Existentialism, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Life goes on lovelies, M/M, No matter how awful you feel right now it can get better and it will, Staying up all night, no sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_starless_eyes/pseuds/your_starless_eyes
Summary: "Life is meaningless. It never had a meaning, a purpose, except for the ones people created out of clay and paint for fear of the truth."Paint chips. Clay cracks. Illusions shatter and the truth is always revealed to those who think it does not exist. Dan has seen it too many times."





	I'll Make Cereal

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by
> 
> I'll Make Cereal  
> Cavetown  
> Lemon Boy  
> 2018
> 
> "I feel very sure that we're close to killing our planet and/or everything on it. I often get lost and scared in my own head at night imagining up what horrific war is coming. I'll feel the worst about it that I possibly can, and convince myself that I'll never climb out of that hole. But then of course I'll eventually fall asleep, and wake up, have some cereal for breakfast; life carries on."  
> -Robin Skinner (Cavetown), via Bandcamp

> _The world’s coming to an end / What’s the point if we can’t be friends? / Pick me up from  dungeon’s ferris wheel / Getting lost inside my head / Not too long ’til we’re all dead / And in the morning I’ll make cereal // So what’ll it be / Cornflakes or toast? / Pills or a dose of radiation? / Armageddon is far too close / She visits me every night / At least it makes good conversation _

_ ~I'll Make Cereal, Cavetown (Lemon Boy, 2018) _

_ •-•-•-• _

Dan paces urgently. His head is reeling, and he can't make it stop. It won't stop. It can't stop.

That's the problem

He's been trying to silence it for hours by pacing like a caged rat (not one word about how he  _is_ a caged rat). He's been attempting to silence the chorus of noise, attempting to shoot down the thoughts that race like sparrows on crack.

First, when Phil announced he was going to turn in for the night, Dan agreed to sleep with him- in the most innocent sense of the phrase, of course. After all, Phil sleeps more soundly with Dan beside him, and Dan does the same with Phil, but even long after Phil started snoring softly, his warm breaths tickling the skin of Dan's shoulders, Dan remained unfortunately awake and alert.

So after several several minutes of untangling his long limbs from Phil's- and Phil undoing his work- Dan slipped away to his own room, where he is now. Phil will notice he disappeared, though- he always does.

He'll wake. He'll open Dan's door and ask why he's awake. Dan will say something along the lines of "I'm not tired" as his body conveniently betrays him with a yawn. Phil will try to coax him back. Dan will half-heartedly resist, but give in after a moment. He'll lay beside Phil, who will interlock their fingers as a way to make Dan stay. They'll talk for a moment before falling asleep nestled in each other's arms.

It's a cycle Phil is probably tiring of, but Dan can't stop it.

Life is meaningless. It never had a meaning, a purpose, except for the ones people created out of clay and paint for fear of the truth.

Paint chips. Clay cracks. Illusions shatter and the truth is always revealed to those who think it does not exist. Dan has seen it too many times.

He tangles his hands in his curly hair, yanking none-too-gently, feeling several brown strands come off in his hands. He drops them on the carpet, barely resisting the urge to do it again. He pauses his steps, glancing at the clock, and he nearly sobs out in frustration.

05:07 AM.

Why is Phil not awake yet? Surely he should have noticed Dan's disappearance by now, or at least woken up, if only for food. The flat is silent as it can be in London, though.

 _Why don't you go wake him?_ Dan asks himself.

 _Because that requires I pull myself free,_ he answers himself.

It's stupid he can't drag himself out of these spirals that start over the most idiotic of things. This one began because of a bloody _feather._

He doesn't recall the details. He never does- they blur like paint, creating intricate murals that, while a beautiful bigger picture, are so incredibly put together one can't make out the finer details or find the first brush stroke.

The world slowly emerges back from it's cocoon of rest, as it always does. Phil never shows up- at least not until the sun is high and the world is wide awake.

There is no explanation. Phil sighs as he takes one look at Dan's face, noticing the dark circles that say he hasn't slept.

"Come on, then, love," he whispers, taking Dan's hand. Dan follows him numbly, in a state of confusion. The world is fuzzy. He feels like he's dreaming, but he's not. He hasn't been sleeping to be dreaming. Phil sits him at the table and pours him a bowl of Crunchy Nut-through some miracle Phil hasn't eaten all.

Life continues on, no matter how awful the dark nights are.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on Pictochat at 3:17 AM.


End file.
